


My Broken House Behind Me (And Good Things Ahead)

by Hoothootmotherf_ckers



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dragons, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, some mentions of death because stolen century and the hunger, there's so many stolen century planes surely at least one of them had some cool dragons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoothootmotherf_ckers/pseuds/Hoothootmotherf_ckers
Summary: Lucretia and her family are locked in an endless cycle of stress and exhaustion and pain, and it would be so easy to give up, to stop caring.But it's not all bad. Sometimes, here there be dragons.Title and inspiration from This Year by The Mountain Goats





	My Broken House Behind Me (And Good Things Ahead)

It’s exhausting, year after year, repeating a desperate race on each new plane. There are deaths, pain, losses and sadness twisting their way into every facet of their lives. It’s an endless pressure, a heart-wrenching struggle to save a single plane, and then having to start from scratch the next year.

But mixed in, there are some good times, too. 

There’s a stretch of cycles that are worse than the others. Fifty-three, a world with unpredictable and catastrophic flash floods and forest fires, kills half the crew in the first few days and leaves the rest with the constant feeling of smoke in their lungs. Fifty-four is barren and lifeless, and they have to rely on magically created food and water, which leaves them dizzy, hungry, and exhausted. Fifty-five could have been good - a wonderful society, full of kind people and interesting discoveries. But all these connections just make it so much worse when they can’t find the Light, and have to leave this wonderful civilization to die.

Cycle fifty-six is one of the most beautiful planes yet. Gentle breezes brush over endless meadows full of wildflowers, and birds flitter above dense but welcoming forests. Though there are plenty of peaceful wild animals, there seem to be no sentient beings, even like those found on their first cycle. This should be a perfect year for exploring, for resting and just enjoying their surroundings.

But Lucretia can’t bring herself to care. She had reformed on the deck of the Starblaster with tears in her eyes, hand still outstretched to a girl just about her age. And now Lucretia’s back, but that girl is gone, absorbed by a force of evil and apathy and never-ending death. She’s gone, and for some reason only Lucretia gets to stay.

So for the first few days, Lucretia doesn’t leave the ship. After all, what makes this cycle any different from the rest? Something’s going to kill them, the flowers could be poisonous or the cow-like creatures could be fucking carnivorous for all she knows. And even if they aren’t, if this is as good as it seems, what’s the point in caring? If she gets attached, if she lets herself like this place, it’ll just hurt more when it’s inevitably ripped away. 

But eventually, she’s drawn out, little by little. Magnus just _has_ to show her this flower covered hill that’s perfect to roll down, or Lup needs an artist to sketch the fungi she’s found in the edges of the woods. And she begins to explore on her own, to follow and document the mice that hide in the tall grasses, to perch on the tops of rolling hills and paint the vistas before her. 

She says she does it because it’s her job. She won’t allow herself to get attached. 

And a couple months in, Lucretia finds herself alone in a denser part of the woods, somewhere she’s never been before. They’re split up in order to scout for the Light, and Lucretia is having a pleasant time just walking quietly over fallen logs and moss-covered boulders. She could almost let herself enjoy it. 

Her casual wandering eventually takes her to a towering cliff of the same granite lining the forest floor. But what really catches her attention is the uneven crack reaching halfway up its face, a triangle of shadow spreading into its core. And somewhere from its depths… music? A high, echoing call, dissonant and hauntingly beautiful, is echoing out from the stone.

For a second, Lucretia’s hand goes to her stone of farspeech. All she has to do is call, and in moments she’ll have her whole team for backup. Lup can light the way, Magnus can protect her… and they’ll bustle her off to safety, protect their small, fragile chronicler from and dangers or discoveries that lie within the cave.

Lucretia drops the stone, instead raising her hand to conjure a few balls of light. After all, how can she accurately record this plane without seeing it all for herself? Cautiously, steps quiet and eyes peeled, she makes her way into the darkness.

Less of a cave and more of a tunnel, this jagged gash stretches far into the rock. She doesn’t know how long she walks, steps muffled by damp, rotting leaves and light sparkling off veins of quartz crystal in the stone. But eventually, her light it joined by another, one much brighter than her own. And the corridor opens up onto a wonderful sight. 

Lucretia stands on the edge of a glitteringly bright cave, quartz crystals larger around than her body jutting out from all angles. Lights play off of the stone, illuminating the white and translucent columns as if they capture starlight. She has to awkwardly clamber over and around some of the crystals to see the source of the light and the continuing echoing melody. As she goes, a type of floor seems to grow beneath her - the angular crystals are smoothed, their gaps filled by piles of precious metal and stones that build up into a mound in the most open part of the cave. On top of this mound: the Light of Creation, its blinding white light gleaming on the quartz.

But on top of the Light rests a dragon. 

Lucretia ducks behind a crystal, extinguishing her lights. Cautiously, she peers out at the dragon, trying to assess the situation. It’s smaller than she might have expected - she estimates only about twenty feet long, including the tail that wraps around one of the jutting crystals. And Lucretia’s read about copper dragons before, but never one like this. Though it has a base scale color that’s bright and coppery, it’s overlaid in swirling patinas of turquoise and violet, creating a beautiful mottled sheen. Its features are smoother as well. Where a dragon from her home plane would have jagged scales and ridges of spines, this dragon’s scales are more pebbly, its ridges more like frills. Lucretia isn’t a scientist, but she’s spent fifty-six years living with them, and she feels confident in making a series of deductions. This dragon is not like those she’s familiar with, potentially in personality as well as appearance. This also means that dragons here may be full sized at twenty feet, but she doubts it. Its feet are too large, its body slender and long as if growing fast; it’s likely a juvenile. These factors make Lucretia a little less scared, a little more willing to creep out from her niche and approach the light.

Also, it appears to be asleep, so there’s that. The musical sound Lucretia’s been following seems to be the dragon’s whistling snores. 

Step by cautious step, she creeps toward the Light. If she can bring it back, they can rest. They can save this plane, and she can feel like she actually did something helpful, some real change. This dragon does not know it may die in eight months, and if she can retrieve the light, it won’t have to.

She’s just inches from the Light when one of the dragon’s eyes snaps open. Lucretia is pierced by a brilliant gaze, violet iris flecked with amber intent on her. Panicking, she falls back, stumbling on the loose floor. Her hands are raised, ready to cast a spell, as she babbles, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trespass, but you have something we need, and I just wanted to find it, and please don’t eat me, and - oh!”

The dragon has just lightly touched its snout to her hand, but not in an aggressive way. Rather, its bright, curious eyes seem to make this a gesture of greeting. It sits back, looking excited, as it trills a long, warbling note. 

Lucretia smiles, nervous and thrilled. “Oh, hello! Hi! Oh, this is so cool. Um, I don’t know if you speak Common, but,” and she points to herself, “I’m Lucretia!”

The young dragon cocks its head to the side like a bird, and raises one long talon in the chronicler’s direction. It calls out a three note run, approximating the vowel sounds “oo-ee-ah.” 

Lucretia beams. “Yes! Lucretia! That’s me! Who are you?” And she points at the dragon.

It raises its head and trills, a bright series of notes that fills the chamber with echoes. It looks back at her in expectation, and Lucretia does her best, vibrating notes in the back of her throat and trilling with her tongue. It takes her a couple tries, but eventually she gets close, and the dragon seems to grin. 

Lucretia can’t stop smiling either. Slowly, she reaches out, gently resting her head on the dragon’s cheekbone. Tentatively, she gives it a little scratch, and the dragon _purrs_ , shoving its face further into her hand, almost knocking her over. She laughs, delighted, as the dragon throws itself down in the pile of gems, precious stones flying as it rolls over in joy. And then they’re both laughing, Lucretia’s giggles growing into uncontrolled, gleeful cackling as the dragon squeaks like a kitten. 

She doesn’t know how long they stay there, collapsed on each other in perfect happiness. But eventually, sides aching, Lucretia stands and walks back over to the Light of Creation. The dragon’s eyes follow, curious.

Lucretia does her best to explain, complicated and confusing hand gestures matching her words. “This is important. My friends and I - we _need_ this. If we- if we can’t bring this with us- it’s bad. You’ll die.” 

Lucretia’s voice is cracking, tears welling up in her eyes. The dragon’s head tilts down, eyes wide with concern, as Lucretia continues.

“I wish we didn’t have to take it, you probably like it. And I really don’t want to have to steal it, or fight you for it. But I can’t let you die.” 

She’s crying openly now, and the dragon moves closer. Lucretia feels a nudge against her hand, and squints down through her tears to see the dragon’s iridescent nose rolling the Light, pushing it into her hands. Lucretia looks up. “Really?”

The dragon blinks happily, and Lucretia throws herself on it, hugging its neck as best she can. Very carefully, she bundles up the Light in the little backpack she’d brought for scouting. Prize secured, she stands and looks at the dragon. 

“Do you want to come with me?”

The dragon shakes uncannily like a dog, then turns and crouches down next to Lucretia, bright eyes still intent on her. Her jaw drops. 

“Do you want - should I- Can I _ride_ you!?” Lucretia’s voice squeaks up two octaves and she doesn’t even care, as the dragon begins to use its nose to push her toward its back. Gleefully, Lucretia clambers on, thankful the dragon is small enough for her to reach around its neck. She _feels_ it as the dragon rises and lets out a low, layered cry, then crouches, muscles tense. And then it _leaps._

The dragon bounds up the sides of the cave, leaping from crystal to crystal as if untouched by gravity. Lucretia is carried up the walls of this chamber, watching quartz flash by and a speck of sunlight at the top grow larger. In mere moments, that speck becomes a jagged opening, easily large enough for the dragon to scramble out of, still a little ungainly in its youth. For a brief and beautiful moment, woman and dragon rest at the peak of one of the plane’s highest mountains, looking out at the meadows and fields below.

And then the dragon unfurls its wings, long and slender and sheer as silk, the same beautiful copper with a brilliant turquoise and violet iridescence. The dragon trills again, high and joyous. And then they fly.

Lucretia is used to flying. She’s spent five decades on a spaceship, soaring above innumerable planes. The Starblaster is a good ship, and Davenport a better pilot, but it seems stiff and lifeless compared to this. The dragon dives and twirls, skimming the treetops and rising above the highest peaks, soaring through the air in a way that just feels natural to Lucretia. The dragon cries, loud and long, and Lucretia adds her own loud whooping calls to create an echoing duet. 

But eventually, Lucretia must get back to her friends, and so with a few points and nudges she directs the newest of their number to the high alpine meadow where the ship is parked. As they spiral down, she can see six small figures rushing out of the ship, some with weapons raised. Quickly, she grabs her stone of farspeech, calling, “Don’t shoot! It’s all good!”

And with a few flourishes that are probably entirely unnecessary, the dragon lands before the crew of the Starblaster. 

“Hey, Luce, what’cha got there?” Taako asks warily. Lup looks like Candlelights came early and Magnus is jumping up and down excitedly.

Lucretia grins and reaches behind her for the contents of her backpack, which she then raises above her head. “Don’t you recognize the Light of Creation?”

“Oh _hell_ yeah!” Lup shouts, punching the air. Everyone is smiling now, confusion and concern tempered by a rush of relief. 

Barry’s crept up very close and appears to be inspecting the dragon’s scales. “Oh, wow, this is gorgeous. Amazing colors. She’s a juvenile, maybe seventy, seventy-five years, I think she’s female, but _wow_ this is not a species we have at home. Where did you find her, Luce?”

Lucretia beams down at them. “There was a cave in the mountains! Her name is-“ and she proceeds to perfectly imitate the long, high pitched trilling noise she’d practiced earlier.

Magnus stares for a minute. “Can I call her Prrp?” 

Lucretia looks at the dragon, and repeats the trill, ending with “Prrp?” The dragon repeats it back, eyes squinting happily.

The chronicler points finger guns at Magnus. “Yep!”

“Awesome,” Magnus breathes. “Hi Prrp! It’s good to meet you!”

The newly nicknamed Prrp trills again and happily pushes her face into Magnus, knocking him over. He takes it in stride, laughing delightedly. While they’re playing, and without climbing down, Lucretia motions Davenport to her side. 

“Hey, Cap’nport,” she says, adrenaline from the flight giving her newfound bravery. “Prrp found this and was nice enough to let me take it. Put it somewhere safe, okay?”

And she gently hands the Light of Creation down to a somewhat stunned Davenport, who looks down at the Light in his hands and walks back to the ship, chuckling. 

Lucretia waves down at her family, as Prrp uses her front claw to gently nudge away Barry and a magnifying glass he seems to have pulled from nowhere. “Alright, I’ll be back, but for now, we’re going flying!” Prrp lets out a high cry and Lucretia joins her, and after a moment so do the rest of her family, until eight voices are joined in a wondrous sound of pure joy. And then the dragon leaps.

Lucretia thinks as they fly, swooping over the endless fields and meadows of this wonderful plane. She won’t be able to stay with Prrp. She probably won’t ever see her again. And after this cycle, it’s back to stress, to death, to destruction.

But she lets out a loud, warbling _whoop_ as the dragon dives, twirling and making Lucretia feel weightless, unstoppable, infinite.

There’s no reason not to enjoy this while she can, to spend her days soaring above the world and wandering its hills with her newfound friend. Let the cycles come as they may - the Hunger can fucking try, try to kill them and assimilate them into its negativity, its apathy and disregard for existence. 

But Lucretia - chronicler, explorer, and now _dragon rider_ \- is not going to let it win without one hell of a fight.


End file.
